


It Was A Dark And Stormy Night

by Berty



Series: The Highwayman [1]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-21
Updated: 2009-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-04 20:14:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Berty/pseuds/Berty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>18th Century smut. Think bodice-rippers. Think dandy highwaymen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Was A Dark And Stormy Night

**Author's Note:**

> With thanks to Saladscream for the beta. Written for the Pepesplace Past Lives Challenge. Please note that this story, although lighthearted, does contain a sexual act of dubious consent.

_"The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,  
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,  
The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,   
And the highwayman came riding -  
Riding - riding -  
The highwayman came riding, up to the carriage-door."_

The Highwayman by Alfred Noyes (with apologies for liberties taken)

 

It was, indeed, a dark and stormy night. The wind didn't whistle, it shrieked like Hell's own infernal choir. A constant background of moans from overtaxed branches, straining to accommodate the fickle tempest, accompanied the frantic thudding of horses' hooves. Titanic crashes of thunder coincided with such explosions of lightning that Doctor Daniel Jackson failed to understand how the coach driver could see where he was going at all.

Daniel was cold and tired and longing for the peace of his own little parlour, a cheery fire in the grate and perhaps a small, purely medicinal shot of something warming. But that would have to wait. There was no way they could continue as far as his home in this dreadful weather. Grimly he clutched the rough blanket tighter over his knees and held on to the strap by his head, wondering how much further it was to the next village with an inn.

Almost on cue, the coach slowed its dreadful pace and Daniel heard the nervous whinny of the horses as they rolled to a stop. The coach creaked and groaned on its suspension as if it were still under way when the wind slammed into the sides, rocking them like a ship adrift. He waited, expecting a shout from above or a hand down from his seat, but none was forthcoming.

Daniel let go his white-knuckled grip on the leather strap and leaned forward to push back the curtain from the window. He was surprised to see that no welcoming lights were in evidence - no inn, no village and no shelter. They seemed to have come to a halt in the middle of nowhere.

Muttering to himself, Daniel pulled aside the blanket and struggled into his topcoat. He pushed the door open with some difficulty as the wind tried to wrest it from his grasp.

"What is the delay, sir?" he called up to the driver's seat, squinting against the weather. A timely flicker of lightning lit the scene with an unholy pink brilliance, revealing that both the driver and his mate were absent.

Daniel barely had time to rationalise this before the sudden shock of cold metal against his neck made him stiffen.

"I am the delay, sir," came the reply close against his ear. The voice was educated and held none of the burr of a local accent. "If you would be so kind as to raise your hands, I suggest we retire inside to transact our business this evening."

With his heart hammering, Daniel allowed himself to be guided back into the carriage. He sat back heavily and watched while the black figure took the bench opposite him. It was dark despite the fitful moonlight, but there was enough to see the silver of a pistol pointing at the doctor's head.

Over the sound of the storm, Daniel could hear the man fumbling with his clothing, then a flare of light caused him to blink when the man blew on glowing tinder. He quickly transferred the flame to a candle in one of the storm lanterns, which Daniel recognised, from the front of the coach. This was obviously something he had done one handed many times before, for at no time did the pistol waver from its mark.

"There. Now let's see what we have," the man said to himself.

"I fear you may be sorely disappointed by your choice of victim on such an inclement night, sir," Daniel said quietly but defiantly.

"I don't think so, sir," the man replied with a strange inflection.

Daniel knew such things as Highwaymen were the scourge of the roads to London, but out here in Wiltshire, it was practically unheard of. He looked closely at his assailant for the first time. The lower half of his face was obscured with a black kerchief, and beneath his hooded cloak he wore a black felt hat. His brown eyes seemed to dance with amusement in the flickering candlelight as he boldly regarded Daniel.

"Your valuables, if you please," he requested, gesturing with his pistol.

"Where are the driver and his mate?" Daniel asked quickly before his nerve deserted him.

"Half way to London by now, I should imagine from the pace at which they took off," the villain said with a dark chuckle. "Do not concern yourself, sir. They took no harm. Now, your valuables."

Daniel lowered his hands slowly and drew out his woefully light purse - the fee for his evening's work.

The man held out a gloved hand and accepted the little leather pouch, hefting its weight as he took it. His eyes went back to Daniel, narrowing a little. "Now you wouldn't be holding out on me, would you, sir? I am not a man known for my love of deceptions and this is a very fine coach for a man of limited means."

"It would be were it my coach, sir. Sadly for you, I have the loan of it from my recent employer, Lord Sutton of Radley Grange," Daniel said stiffly.

"And what form did this recent employment take?" the highwayman asked, leaning back and putting a booted foot up on the velvet upholstery. He almost looked as if he were settling in for a friendly conversation instead of a robbery.

"I am a physician, sir. I was called to the Grange to attend to Lord Sutton's wife. He was gracious enough to have his coachmen bring me home, when the consultation took longer than anticipated."

"I see. And this is all you have?" the man asked, swinging the purse thoughtfully from his fingers.

"That is all, other than my father's pocket-watch which I suspect is worth significantly less than your own," Daniel admitted, indicating the glint of gold across the man's black-clad abdomen.

The man said nothing, but slowly put the pouch of coins into the pocket of his waistcoat. He sat and watched Daniel until the doctor felt quite uncomfortable from the prolonged scrutiny.

"I apologise for your wasted effort, sir," Daniel said a little sarcastically when he was unable to endure the loaded silence any longer. If the man meant to kill him, he should damned well get on with it.

"Not wasted at all, as I have met your esteemed self, Doctor...?"

"Jackson. Daniel Jackson, at your service," Daniel supplied automatically, then immediately felt foolish. He had read accounts of the London robberies and none of them had mentioned such familiar and unnerving behaviour from the protagonists.

"Well, Doctor Jackson. Maybe I can seek your professional opinion on a condition with which I seem to be afflicted."

"And what nature would this affliction take, Mister...?"

"Jack," the man replied nonchalantly. "And I seem to be afflicted with the desire to kiss you, Doctor Jackson. For which I can think of only one cure."

Daniel's mouth fell open. He wasn't sure whether to laugh or swear. He could feel his face flaming at the unexpected admission and knew that this... Jack would be able to see it too. The masked man wasn't making any threatening moves in his direction - just watching him still with that mocking, steady gaze of his. Daniel stared right back, torn between anger and curiosity.

A sudden squall of rain hit the side of the carriage with a dreadful clatter, making Daniel jump and realise that he hadn't yet responded.

"I don't think that's something I can help you with, sir," Daniel told Jack coldly, lifting his chin defiantly.

The click of the pistol being cocked sounded terribly, terribly loud, even with the noise of the rain outside.

"Oh, come now, Doctor Jackson. A kiss is a small price to pay for your life," Jack said smoothly, leaning forward into the candlelight.

Daniel wondered if a gentleman would rather die than kiss another man. It wasn't something he'd ever had to consider before, but he supposed honour would dictate that such an unnatural act should make death the more appealing option.

Which, frankly, it didn't.

Daniel felt no revulsion at the thought of pressing his lips to those of this charming criminal, merely a concern as to what polite society might think of such a thing. But as it was highly unlikely that Jack would ever be in a position to relay his exploits, unless on his way to the gallows, Daniel didn't really think it would be an issue. However, the question of being left no other viable option was galling in the extreme.

Daniel watched with wide eyes as Jack eased toward him slowly, removing his hat and pulling down his kerchief to reveal thin, smiling lips on a clean-shaven and rather handsome face.

Daniel licked his lips. "You, sir, are a black-hearted, villainous bastard and I..."

The pressure of Jack's mouth on his own smothered his protests, a hot, impertinent tongue taking advantage of Daniel's words and pressing inside his mouth to lick wetly at him. Jack's hand snaked around Daniel's neck and grasped the hair at his nape, holding them together as he angled their mouths to his satisfaction.

Daniel felt light-headed as he struggled to breathe through his nose while waves of heat radiated from his bruised lips to every part of his chilled body. He'd been right not to feel disgust, as the experience wasn't physically disagreeable in the slightest. On the contrary, it was intense and exciting. This was no mere gesture, Daniel felt. The touch of Jack's lips had segued into something deeper than that - it was almost as if Jack was trying to express something - perhaps a need.

The matter of his own free will was another issue. There was no question that he would never have countenanced such a thing, had he not been under a threat of death, and yet he couldn't now say, having experienced it, that he was averse to the feeling.

Every breath Daniel took was soaked with the scent of this unknown man. He smelled of fresh air, gunpowder, leather and wool, and something Daniel had no name for, but masculinity. He knew he should resist, put up some kind of struggle, but he had completely lost track of the scoundrel's pistol, and the smallest defiance he showed might prove fatal. On top of which he hadn't finished cataloguing the unusual sensations this man's proximity generated in him.

With a satisfied grunt, Jack finally pulled back, his lips pink and slick. His eyes were dark and hungry as he watched for Daniel's reaction.

Daniel attempted to marshal his expression into something contemptuous, or at least unmoved, but he could see from Jack's smug reaction that he had failed to manage either.

"Your prize, sir, is a hollow one as it was given under duress," Daniel muttered bitterly, bringing the back of his hand up to his lips.

"Were it given freely, it would indeed be of incalculable worth," Jack responded immediately, his eyes straying to Daniel's mouth.

And there it was. The control of the situation was returned, in however small a matter, to Daniel. This thing that he'd never experienced, or even looked for, was being offered to him. If he hadn't been utterly fascinated by the flecks of silver in Jack's brown hair and the way the candlelight enhanced the planes of light and shadow on his face, Daniel would have recognised the insanity of it - the sheer madness of his reaction to this man. But he didn't. His whole attention was focussed on his desire to feel the connection he had tasted briefly in their kiss.

Daniel lifted a hand and ran a cautious caress along Jack's jaw, wondering if what he'd imagined was real - that Jack's kiss had been passion, not punishment. The trace of stubble under his fingers was another disregarded reminder that this was uncharacteristic behaviour. The scratch of it both shocked him and thrilled him.

Closing his eyes, Daniel leaned forward and touched his mouth to Jack's, tilting his head with gentle fingers. Jack complied, easily, willingly. Excited by this taste of control, Daniel swept his tongue over Jack's lips and moaned a little as Jack opened to him. The heat of their first kiss was already surpassed, left far behind when Jack left his seat and knelt at Daniel's feet.

Daniel pulled back, puzzled, and watched in wonder as Jack warily un-cocked his pistol and placed it, and his gloves, on the seat beside Daniel, his eyes never leaving Daniel's face. He looked hopeful and afraid in equal measure.

Jack shuffled forward, forcing Daniel to part his thighs when he leaned in once again, burying his fingers into Daniel's hair and kissing him deeply. Daniel jumped at the touch of Jack's hand on his stomach through layers of clothing, but quickly relaxed into the soothing rubbing motion. Which worked lower. And lower.

Daniel made a most indelicate sound deep in his throat as Jack's hand brushed across his groin. It was as much desire as surprise and was repeated when Jack began to push away the clothing that separated his fingers from Daniel's skin.

He wanted to help, to get him there faster, but all Daniel could do was cling to Jack's shoulders and remember to keep breathing. Daniel heard a ripping sound, then finally, Jack's blessedly cool palm taking his heated flesh and squeezing gently.

Jack swallowed Daniel's sobbing breaths, kissing him with infinite tenderness. And all the while his smooth, strong fingers worked at the aching hardness between Daniel's thighs, inflaming him in a way he'd never experienced before. The touch of another - so intimate a touch, was a revelation to Daniel who gave himself over to it freely and joyfully, for once in his life without thought of consequence or propriety.

He fought to prolong the exquisite sensation, but Jack's skill was too great, and with a wrenching groan he spilled between them, shuddering and straining. Jack's mouth never left his, kissing and nipping at him while he came down.

While Daniel breathed deeply to settle his pounding heart, he became aware that Jack hadn't stilled. Although he'd let go of Daniel's oversensitive flesh, he could still hear the rustle of material that had accompanied his own release.

Opening his eyes and moving back in his seat slightly, Daniel could see that Jack had taken his own length in hand now. Jack's chest heaved and his eyes were tightly squeezed shut as he worked himself with the same short, hard strokes he had gifted Daniel with. His other hand was still twisted in Daniel's hair.

Terrified, but fascinated, Daniel reached a hand slowly down to touch the angry red crown of Jack's hardness, where it was exposed at each of his downward strokes. The warmth and silkiness of the skin there seemed achingly vulnerable to Daniel as he rubbed a thumb across it.

Jack's eyes flew open and with a surprised gasp, he came, flooding over Daniel's fingers, his own fist and breeches in ever weakening pulses.

Daniel watched until Jack's member had stopped jerking, then looked up into shocked, brown eyes. Deliberately, Daniel leaned in and kissed Jack once more, softly, meaningfully, before drawing away and searching for a handkerchief to clean himself up. He didn't look up when Jack stood, collected his pistol and hat, and walked out without a word.

Daniel took his time adjusting his clothing and cleaning his hands, giving Jack an opportunity to make good his departure. The rain had stopped by the time he stepped down onto the wet road, the intermittent moonlight turning it into a ribbon of silver leading off into the trees. Daniel realised with a little guilt that he hadn't even noticed that the storm had moved on, growling far off to the east now. He looked about him, searching for some landmark he might know.

"Nearest town is two miles that way," a familiar voice told him. Daniel turned to see Jack, his mask firmly back over his nose and mounted on his dark, impatient horse. Jack indicated the road that lead to Daniel's left. "I'd take you myself, but you can see that would be impractical," he shrugged and Daniel was certain that if he could have had a light, he would have seen that same amused glitter in the highwayman's eyes.

"There's an inn there, The Crown. If you hurry, you'll get there before they shut up for the night."

Daniel turned and looked as far along the road as he could. "Thank you," he said simply.

Jack brought his horse across in front of Daniel and paused, looking down at him. "Be careful, sir. There are undesirables around at this time of night," he cautioned.

Daniel couldn't see the smile on his face behind the kerchief, but he knew it was there.

Jack reached into his boot, pulled out a small pistol and handed it to Daniel, his fingers lingering for a second where their skin met. Then he sat up straight, kicked his heels and took off with a clatter of hooves, which became heavy thuds as he turned off the road and into the cover of the trees.

Daniel watched the darkness until he couldn't hear him anymore, then reached into the carriage to collect the blanket and lantern. In the candle's flicker he noticed that Jack had deliberately placed his purse where his pistol had lain. Daniel picked it up, feeling the weight of his coins still inside. He stepped back out into the cold night, tucked it into his waistcoat pocket and then reached for his watch. His fingers fumbled for a few seconds before he realised that it wasn't there.

"Ha!" Daniel laughed quickly and shook his head before turning and walking off into the darkness.

Fin

_"I'm the dandy highwayman who you're too scared to mention,   
I spend my cash on looking flash and grabbing your attention."_

Stand and Deliver by Adam Ant and Marco Pirroni


End file.
